


A Terrible Idea

by thedevilchicken



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Male De Sardet (GreedFall), Mistaken for a prostitute, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: De Sardet and Vasco meet in the tavern in Sérène before setting sail for Tír Fradí. Vasco, not particularly used to life on land, mistakes de Sardet for a prostitute; de Sardet decides to play along.
Relationships: De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 125
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	A Terrible Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



It was an extremely bad idea and de Sardet knew it. That was, quite possibly, what made it seem so tempting. 

Constantin had always had a terrible habit of being late. Sometimes it was just a few minutes, when it suited him, but he was sometimes extremely late, which was the case that night. He always breezed in in the end, with a smile and a laugh and an _oh, cousin, I'm sorry, the time just got away from me!_ and de Sardet, ever the fool - or at least ever the loyal cousin - always forgave him. It sometimes took an hour or two, even if sometimes that hour or two was mostly for effect; sometimes as much as a day might pass, but he did always forgive him. 

Constantin was late. Again. Very much as usual, so it was difficult to feel too much irritation given all he'd done was live up (or down) to usual expectations. And de Sardet sat there in the tavern, nursing his mug of decidedly cheap wine - Constantin had promised faithfully that he'd pay for their drinks that evening, which of course he shouldn't have believed, but he had and so his purse was a little light. It was a pleasant enough night despite the chill in the air outside, since there was a roaring fire in the hearth and enough people at the tables to raise the temperature further. Three men were singing with a fiddle player and the food smelled good, though de Sardet hadn't the coin to buy some for himself. And there was a Naut at the bar, speaking with the bartender, who looked his way from time to time and smiled. De Sardet found he liked that. The Naut was a good-looking man, after all, and a pleasant distraction from his cousin's usual tardiness, and so he smiled back each time that he caught him looking. He caught him looking often.

Constantin was _very_ late. De Sardet finished his wine and counted his coin and he found he had just enough for another mug; he made his way to the bar and when he ordered, the good-looking Naut said, "Let me get that for you. My treat."

"Thank you," de Sardet replied, pleasantly surprised by the unexpected generosity. "That's very good of you." 

"Not _very_ good," the Naut said, with a smile, and he raised his own mug like a toast. 

Once his second drink was drained, the Naut bought him another and then slipped into the seat across the table from him. "I can't help but notice you've been alone all night," he said. "I take it that's not by design?"

De Sardet's mouth twisted wryly. He saluted him with his new mug of wine. "Not by design, no," he confirmed. "I could be waiting a rather long time, but I'm sorry to say I'm quite used to it."

"That seems a shame," the Naut said. "Sitting here all alone."

De Sardet raised a hand. He gestured at him. He smiled. "Well, no longer alone," he said, and the Naut laughed. He nodded. He couldn't exactly deny he was right. 

They drank together. They talked a little, but not very much, and de Sardet couldn't say he minded when the silence was filled with the Naut's long looks and pleasant smiles. He'd never seen a Naut's tattoos up close before; they were entirely fascinating, and he didn't seem to mind de Sardet's stares, perhaps because his eyes were drawn in return to the mark there by his jaw. De Sardet didn't mind him staring, either, when the look on his face was curiosity and not disgust.

Constantin was rarely ever this late, de Sardet thought, as more time passed, but he couldn't say it was without the bounds of possibility. He'd stood him up completely on more than one occasion, though in his defence he'd been recalled to the palace by his father on those occasions and hadn't managed to send word. But the night wore on, and it became evident that Constantin wasn't coming; perhaps he'd been winning at cards for once and decided to chase that winning streak, or else the fact they'd arranged to meet for one last night out in town before their trip to New Sérène had fallen out of his mind completely. He wouldn't have been surprised by either thing.

"I should really be going, I'm afraid," de Sardet told the Naut once he'd drained his next mug, and he began to push himself up from his seat. The Naut, though, caught his wrist; it didn't seem threatening at all, but it did make him pause. 

"I've a room upstairs," he said, leaning closer. "I understand if you've another client to get to, but if you're at a loose end for the rest of the night..."

De Sardet's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do you think I'm a prostitute?"

"Aren't you?"

"I..." He paused. He glanced around the room, at the women, some of them no doubt employees of the brothel downstairs, and at the men enjoying their company. He glanced at the bartender, who sensibly looked away. Then he looked at the Naut, with his gold eyes and his tanned skin and the waves of his tattoos across his face. It had been some time since he'd been treated quite so amiably, even if they'd shared relatively few words. It had been some time since he'd been treated like anything other than the nobleman he was, his uncle's nephew, his mother's son. And this Naut...this Naut had an interest in his company, to the point where he was willing to purchase it. It would have been difficult to say he didn't find that intriguing.

It was a bad idea. Even at the time, with the faint buzz of the watered wine within his veins, he knew that. But he told him, "I'd be delighted to go with you. Won't you lead the way?" And he watched the Naut smile widely.

The room wasn't far, and it didn't take them long to reach it. Most Nauts preferred to stay in their own places by the harbour, and the fact that this one had a room said that he was one of three things: out of favour with the admirals and seeking solitude elsewhere, in favour with the admirals and spending his coin where he could in port, or else just seeking out the kind of company he couldn't find with his own people. De Sardet wondered which it might be in his case. He wondered if he'd come here looking for a man, and if he often did, if he had them regularly, and if he'd recognise de Sardet didn't. 

The Naut set his hat down on the dresser by the window, and de Sardet did likewise. He removed his coat, so de Sardet did too. He took off his shirt, his boots, his belt, his trousers, underwear - de Sardet felt his pulse quicken as he stripped himself, too, baring his skin in the candlelight. And then the Naut put his rough hands on him. 

He skimmed de Sardet's hips with his palms. He skimmed de Sardet's chest with his fingers. Then he skimmed de Sardet's cock with the back of his hand and the contact made him stir a little. He knew that popular opinion in the streets of Sérène was that the Congregation court was nothing but sex, and various other acts of hedonism, but he hadn't found that true at all in his own experience; his every move within the palace walls was watched, which was perhaps why he didn't so much mind his cousin's lateness whenever they escaped into the town, where he could attempt to shrug off his nobility for at least a short while. He'd never managed that so well as he apparently had this evening, though - even if he'd done it quite by accident, and likely just because a Naut's life didn't acquaint one closely with nobility. 

Popular opinion was the nobles were at it night and day, but de Sardet really hadn't been. A few adolescent fumbles barely counted, he thought. And when the Naut wrapped his hand around his cock, when he slipped it down to squeeze his balls, he had to hope that enthusiasm would make up for lack of experience. 

The Naut kissed him. He slid his other hand into de Sardet's hair and he pressed their mouths together, while his fingertips pressed at the skin behind his balls and made his knees feel weak with it. De Sardet returned that kiss; that, at least, he was well versed in, from kisses stolen in corridors when the guards weren't there to see. He ran his hands over the Naut's broad shoulders, his arms, his chest, down to his waist, and hesitated just a moment before reaching down a little lower. He was already hard, and de Sardet glanced down, looked at him, at his cock straining up hard and flushed and wonderfully tactile. He wondered how it would feel in his mouth, how it would taste against his tongue, but it appeared that wasn't quite what the Naut had in mind. 

"Let's go to bed," he said, and he gestured, so that was where de Sardet went. And he stretched out on his back, but that didn't seem quite right; the Naut, lowered himself over him, however, and kissed his mouth again, tasting like the wine they'd shared. His skin smelled like salt and when he kissed him again, he could taste it there, too. 

"Can I have you?" the Naut asked, as he pulled back, as he looked down at him. His face was flushed and his eyes seemed dark and his hair was falling from its tie a little, and his cock pressed hard against de Sardet's thigh. De Sardet's heart thumped in his chest. His cock stiffened. And perhaps it was still a very, very bad idea, and perhaps Constantin had now arrived downstairs, perhaps he should have excused himself and left the room and gone back home to his bedroom where he'd lived all his life without ever feeling as thoroughly desired or as desirable as he did right then. At court, he was worth what his uncle said he was, or which house wanted to marry him to their child the most. Here, he was worth what this Naut would pay for the want of him. And the Naut wanted him, that much was evident.

"Yes," he said. "Of course, yes." And the Naut smiled widely, with a crinkle to his eyes that made de Sardet smile up at him in return. He pushed and pulled him to his hands and knees, and reached to his bag on the floor by the bed; there was a glass vial there, full of something slick that de Sardet felt him pour out against his hole and rub there, slowly, as a little of it escaped his fingertips to trickle down behind his balls. He felt his fingers push against him, testing how he'd stretch. He wanted to stretch, and he knew he could; time alone in his room with borrowed oil and his own fingers had taught him at least that much. But then the tip of the Naut's cock touched him there, pressed him there, sent a thrill down his spine and made him shiver. He wanted it, and he wanted it quite badly. His own cock almost ached for it. 

He pushed in, with a slow stop-start when he slipped out of place and then tried again. He pushed in, inch by inch, opening de Sardet's hole with the thick, hot length of his long, hard cock. It made him tingle, through his cock and down into his thighs. It made him take a shaky breath and brace himself against the faintly musty tavern mattress. It stretched him, made his breath hitch, made him squeeze his eyes shut as he felt him fit his hips up snug against his arse. He squeezed around him, felt him there, felt him rub his rim with the pad of his thumb. Then the Naut took a sharp breath in, and he began to move inside him. 

De Sardet's head swam with it. It wasn't perfect, no; his knees ached against the rather lumpy mattress and his thighs ached from how wide apart he'd spread them and his cock leaked almost painfully from the complete lack of attention being paid to it. The room was too warm and sweat stood out on his skin. But the Naut's hands tightened at his hips. The Naut's own hips bucked against him. He felt him move, felt him pull out slowly to the tip and then push back in in one long, breathtaking thrust. He'd heard some of the others, his contemporaries at court, sons of noble houses, say they'd tried it, they'd had a servant fuck them just for the novelty of it, or else they'd done it to one another. They'd said sometimes it hurt, if the cock was big, if the hole was tight, but de Sardet didn't hurt. His rim was tight around the Naut's rather large manhood, yes, but it wasn't uncomfortably so. He felt the stretch, but it wasn't painful. 

He pushed back against him. It was experimental at first, but the Naut groaned lowly and tugged at his hips, encouraging him, so he did it again, braced himself against the rickety headboard and pushed back again, a little harder. He took him deeper as he did so, and made himself gasp, made his cock stiffen harder, made himself press his face against the pillow and then, because of how it felt, he did it again. There was a place inside him that the Naut's cock brushed against, that he'd found sometimes with his own fingers, and he pushed past it with every thrust until de Sardet's knees were weak and his thighs began to tremble. And when he came, in a sudden rush, in a shimmer of his vision and a wet splash at the sheets, he felt the Naut come, too. He felt his cock pulse inside his hole as he came in him. He hoped he'd remember the feeling for some time to come, given the voyage he was about to set out upon. 

They caught their breath together afterwards, lying side by side in the lamplight. De Sardet asked about his life at sea and he told him a little, as he traced the mark at de Sardet's jaw with fingertips callused by his work. He told him the sea could be lonely, even if you were never alone. Then he ducked down low with a twinkle in his eye and he sucked de Sardet's cock till he stiffened again. Soon after, he had him for a second time, face to face, and slow and deep. De Sardet's face flushed and he held tight at the Naut's strong arms, and he didn't mind the awkward angle when he leaned in to kiss his mouth.

As the Naut dozed, after, apparently thoroughly spent, de Sardet dressed himself and left. He could still feel the pleasant ache in his hole as he walked back to the palace, and the looseness of his limbs. There was a faint slickness of his come and the sensitivity of his own cock inside his breeches. He smiled to himself as he went; as far as bad ideas went, he thought, it could have been far, far worse. He couldn't be too mad with his cousin after all, whenever he happened to find him.

Of course, two days later, they saw each other again. Their eyes met there, by the dock, near the ship that they were due to sail in. De Sardet's stomach clenched. He introduced himself as _de Sardet, legate of the Congregation_ , and the Naut, it seemed, was _Captain Vasco_.

It had been a terrible idea. It was _still_ a terrible idea. But de Sardet suspected the next few months would be nothing if not interesting.


End file.
